Death By Hollywood
by ImagineWhatItWouldBeLikeToFly
Summary: You can't blame her for convincing herself that's what she was: a boulder among flowers in the cosmos. Not even a boulder, just a pebble disguised as a dandelion. Oneshot.


**I do not own Sonny With A Chance. If I did I would hire all of you to write the scripts. **

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><p>You can't blame her you know, for everything that happened.<p>

You can't blame her for wanting to be a here, because hey, it's _Hollywood_. You can't blame her for being ecstatic when her dream came true and she was thrust into the spotlight before she had a chance to say goodbye.

You can't blame her for her enthusiasm, enduring for months longer then we expected. Then anyone expected. Normal people got nervous during interviews. They said a few white lies, just to make it sound better, no Munroe did not. When asked why she didn't enjoy the presence of Chad Dylan Cooper she didn't simply say that they were friends and wave it off with a lackluster compliment, as the blond superstar had. She took ten minutes out of her day to explain why he was a jerk and she couldn't stand to be around him for too long before she did something illegal, no matter how good of a mood she was in.

You can't blame her for toning down her style. It only took a year for her to realize exhaustion conquered all honest morals and proverb she had been raised on. But she continued to fight back; she didn't let fandom overcome her, because that's who she was. She fought back longer then we thought she would. Then anyone thought she would. She's still fighting it.

You can't blame her for the words in her journal. It was true no one understood her, and true she just wanted to please everyone. Too bad she didn't realize that in Hollywood, not everyone was worth pleasing.

You can't blame her for feeling the pressure to be perfect. The constant reminder that she wasn't thin enough, strong enough, funny enough, pretty enough, outstanding enough. Everywhere she went she heard the judgment all around. Too bad she couldn't see that the voices were coming from her own heart.

But she stayed strong and fought back, because that's who she was.

You can't blame her for that moment she stopped talking. All effort was lifted and there was nothing left to say. There was no one left to listen. But she stubbornly refused to let anyone else feel as alone as her and made sure that every time someone said something, anything, she was ready to be by their side forever, just as she stubbornly refused the help that was offered to her in concern along the way. She dismissed the idea that someone should bother with her, just as she dismissed the reality that millions of people everywhere thought she was the most deserving person in the world.

Slowly the fortress around her heart had been built and when the last stone was put into place that was all that she convinced herself she was: a boulder among flowers in the cosmos. Not even a boulder, just a pebble disguised as a dandelion. Picturesque? Yes. But a picture is just a picture if the view is external, a picture told by a lying mirror. Or is it a lying heart?

You can't blame her for the marks on her wrist. If they had been paying attention they all would have seen it coming, and those who did weren't strong enough to stop the red stained rocks from being piled high onto her wall of desolate love. When realism finally set in and her friends grasped what had gone down, it was too late to take down the stronghold and bury the castle. The kingdom was thriving under a homeless queen.

"We love you the way you are." Were their unheard cries. _And who is that?_ Was all that was processed.

But she did her best to stay strong and fight back.

You can blame them for the headlines and derogatory comments.

You can blame them for the mentions of drugs and alcohol.

You can blame them for trying to damage her dead spirit.

You can blame them for killing her in the first place.

You can't blame her for packing her bags and going home. Two years in Hollywood was like a lifetime in Hell. She was tired and dangling off the edge of a cliff, a real one, and you can't blame her for that. The world and her heart committed homicide to a phenomenon so beautiful they weren't worthy enough to see. She left and never came back. She lasted longer then we expected she would. Then anyone expected.

She stayed strong and fought back. Because that's who she was.

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><p><strong>Dedicated to Demi Lovato, because she is a phenomenon so beautiful we are not worthy to behold. 3 <strong>

**I wrote this about Demi leaving SWAC, because I am both crushed (timesamillion) and extremely proud. Sonny Munroe will be severely missed. Tell me if you heard the Paramore(x2)/JustinBiebss/Believe In Me/Bruno Mars references. Also, I think I have a disease that prevents me from writing even moderately long stories. All of mine are shorter then life. Thanks for reading XD**

**[P.S. Please don't judge me for the amount of times I said 'she' and 'her.']  
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